There's no one up there there never was
Only in vain is there a god
There's too much suffering for him to be
An almighty power a heavenly being

Chorus


My god, your god, who's god, there is no god

The fabric of prophet's ages old
Drones on and gathers mold
Gets a weekly airing from a fool on high
Who talks and talks till his throat's dry
A fund for a roof with a hole
It's the money they'll save not your soul
Persistant begging from men of the cloth
Refuse his offer and see his wrath

The weak ones kneel to him they prey
"Oh saviour come back someday"
Sinning whilst waiting for a sign
I deny him he's yours not mine